Five Times Charles Had No Idea What Erik Thought
by thewhoreat-221b
Summary: Title Con't: and One Time He Did  Charles, despite being a telepath, really doesn't know what people think when he's not using his power. Especially Erik.


1

—

It was the moments shortly before Hank flipped the switch to Cerebro that Charles loved the most. The anticipation and anxiety and pure adrenaline rush that came before the explosion of feeling, it was more of an addictive high than actually using Cerebro was. After a few times, Charles began to realize that in those few short moments, Erik would just stare at him. He looked at Charles with the perfect combination of complete awe and intrigue, with just a hint of fear. Charles couldn't pinpoint why exactly Erik was doing it, though. He wanted to know, out of pure curiosity and everything, but he refrained, struggling to control himself from looking (just a peek) into Erik's mind.

It should not have been this much of a mystery, to know what Erik was thinking while he looked at him. Charles already knew what Erik thought of him and what Erik thought of this. This made Erik think of helpless animals being rounded up for slaughter by those they should trust. Erik thought of Charles as nothing but a friend. Because he had to, right? Nothing more than that.

Erik, in Charles' mind, thought nothing of Charles like he thought of Erik; physically attractive, Charles would admit. Sharp jaw, high cheekbones, the black turtleneck not hiding any of his body's hard lines and edges. Genetic perfection. Erik's mind too; equally as beautiful. Sometimes, in the middle of the night in CIA paid-for hotel rooms, Charles would catch the wisps of tendrils of Erik's dreams drifting in the air. Scared nightmares filled with fear and hurt, determination and pure passion.

But in those moments right before the floodgates of thoughts of an entire country of mutants and people were opened, Charles had no idea what true thoughts were hiding behind Erik's gaze.

2

—

"Did he really just say that?" exclaimed Erik.

Charles was laughing quietly, the two of them had just failed to recruit a rather scruffy-looking Canadian mutant with a cigar who told them to go fuck themselves. "I believe so, my friend."

"We can live without that one then."

"Time for a drink?"

"Of course."

They ended up on the other side of town in a seedy little bar that played loud country music and a heavy blanket of smoke draped the air. It was far from full, but there was still a small crowd, which included quite a few lovely girls in short skirts.

Eventually they settled in their usual locations, Erik quietly sipping his beer at the bar and Charles somewhere else, flirting with the prettiest girl he could find. He used his usual lines, of course, talking about exactly how the redhead gene may have evolved, groovy mutation and the likes, the girl just giggled and seemed completely clueless. It wasn't as interesting as he hoped, and he just wasn't as into it as he tended to be. Chatting up this pretty girl wasn't exactly what he really wanted though, the nagging, tugging sensation of want was bringing him right back to the man he left at the bar; Erik.

He was exactly where Charles had left him, brooding into his glass of beer. "Any luck?" the other said.

"No, wasn't really feeling it, you know?" said Charles. He ordered himself a beer so he would seem less awkward standing at the bar with another man, who he would never verbally admit he was attracted to.

Erik made a noise of agreement. Then Charles noticed it. The veins in Erik's forearm were sticking out, his fist was clenched (maybe around the coin?) with his nails digging hard into his skin. The tenseness was not limited to just his arm, it traveled up his body, evident even with that blasted black turtleneck on top, to his shoulders that were rigid and unmoving. They sat close enough that Charles could make out the way that Erik's jaw clenched and his lips drew a thin line. Close enough that Charles could feel the small waves of strong emotion.

A pulling feeling, that tug of want came back again and all he wanted to do was help Erik, but he wouldn't intrude on his privacy by spying on his mind to find out exactly what was bothering him. No, he couldn't do that, Erik was his friend and he would never intrude on his mind without specific permission. After all, he could figure this out on his own, couldn't he?

If he theory about the coin being clenched in that first was correct, then it had to be Shaw that was bothering Erik. It must be triggering; failing to recruit a mutant with a likely formidable power that could stand a chance against Shaw. Yes, that had to be it- Shaw.

It physically pained Charles to see his Erik be so bothered by something, especially Shaw. Carefully, in a move of comfort, he placed gentle fingers on Erik's muscled forearm. The hand immediately unclenched and Erik looked directly at him.

Charles wanted to say "it's okay, we'll deal with him one day," but he didn't. He didn't because he couldn't tell what Erik wanted.

He could tell though that Erik was closer to him than he had been a split second before and Charles placed the blame on too much alcohol interfering with his distance perception. He attributed the way that Erik's glances seemed to have been calling to him, wanting him, to the same thing. Except, more of his own wants seemed to have been mixed in with that want. Or, it could have been completely part of reality and in that case it must have been a mix of both the alcohol and Erik needing a comforting friend. But that look, that look of needing, shot little lightning bolts down Charles' spine and made his blood rush and heart thump. He quelled those thoughts. His very attractive friend needed him to help deal with some personal issues; he didn't need said friend wanting to jump his bones.

Somehow Erik's other hand ended on top of Charles', his thumb carefully rubbing along the side of his palm. Charles mirrored the gesture, automatically assuming it was calming for Erik.

Erik was still staring right at him; his chest moving up and down noticeably with every breath. A stray thought of wondering what else could make him do that passed Charles' mind. He ignored it.

"Well then," Charles huffed, "we should get back to the room. I feel in need of a shower and you might want to rest." He smiled in an effort to be supportive and completely sincere. Erik seemed to snap out of a daze, and his eyebrows furrowed slightly in what looked like almost… confusion? Charles had no idea but he smiled nonetheless.

"Yeah, yeah," Erik breathed quietly, looking completely away from Charles. There was a flush of emotion in the air, but Charles ignored it again. He couldn't allow Erik's emotions to interfere with his own and his ability to help his friend.

3

—

Charles' head pounded, pulsing with his heartbeat; every little noise in the room was ten times louder and made his head hurt ten times stronger. The hum of the fan up above was almost unbearable. His mouth tasted like stale alcohol and his body felt like lead. Conclusion: he was very, very hungover. All he could remember from the night before was in bits and pieces, mostly involving a truly dreadful idea from Erik: Since they were in California, they should get completely inebriated and purchase cannabis, of all things. Not that he hadn't smoked, he did go to university after all, but Erik wanting to was something completely different. No matter. Now he was in a very warm bed and the sun was shining through the room and holy fuck that light burns.

There was also a very warm thing curled next to him. Well, not curled next to him as much as curled around him with limbs entangled in his own.

"Ugh…" Charles groaned, opening his eyes just a slit to see who it was despite the ever-present pulsing pain.

It was Erik.

Who was still sleeping.

With his shirt off. He was gorgeous, muscles toned and chiseled and so obviously used, just like what Charles had imagined they would be from under the turtleneck.

Charles' shirt seemed to be missing as well; woops.

Erik's eyes fluttered open, "Charles?" he asked. The room suddenly got just a little too hot and the air just a little too stuffy. "How did we…?"

"Alcohol and cannabis if I remember correctly, Erik," said Charles, trying to peel himself off of Erik, no matter how much he wished they could stay like that. Their skin was sticky with sweat; his head still pounded. And Erik was shirtless in bed next to him.

Erik started to push him away; it felt a little weird, being pushed against by Erik, it seemed rather… forceful. Charles figured it must have been incredibly awkward for him if his own level of awkward was anything to go by, but Charles also figured that Erik's reason for awkward feelings were completely different than his I think that I am very, very much attracted to my friend oh dear awkward. It also hurt, being pushed away by Erik, but he still let it happen.

"Sorry about that," Erik said as he untangled his arm from around Charles' waist. The loss of body contact was nearly painful. And then a question wormed its way into Charles' mind.

"Do you know if anything… er… I don't know how to put this, happened?" He looked at Erik, trying to be as sincere as possible, hoping for a negative answer. He didn't want… no, he didn't want it to have happened while he didn't remember, and he wouldn't have been completely in control of his powers, he could never know if it all was Erik's own choice or his influence over Erik. Those thoughts scared him.

Instead of getting a verbal answer, Erik's eyes widened instantly and his mouth fell open. Charles could not tell the nature of the look, but he was never really too good with interpreting the actions of others, he had always relied on just using his power to guide him, but once again with Erik, he was choosing not to because he could do this himself. He was going to show self control and restraint (in more ways than one). He could do this though, for their friendship, no matter how much he wanted more. "I mean, I don't really remember and all, I'm just curious."

"I don't think so," Erik responded quickly. He looked away from Charles, down on the floor, and he got off the bed as fast as possible; leaving Charles in a pile of cheap hotel blankets as he pulled his turtleneck off the floor.

Charles couldn't shake the nagging feeling that all Erik wanted to do was get away from him, far away, even if all he wanted to do was get closer. But before he could analyze it more, the headache came back at more than full force and so much worse. He needed a nap before another day of mutant recruiting with Erik began.

4

—

Erik's power was still in development, he was getting stronger every time he and Charles went out to the Mansion's garden to train. Yes, he moved the satellite dish, but that was only because Charles had helped him access that memory. Erik had to learn for himself, and Charles had made it his quest to make that happen today. Charles thought that perhaps the reason that Erik might not be able to access the full extent of his powers is because of memories related to Shaw blocking the ones that are between rage and serenity, and therefore the expulsion of the feelings towards Shaw might remove that blockage. The challenge was to do that without poking and prodding at Erik's memory with his power.

"Erik, listen to me. Shaw," Charles said. They were standing on the balcony, overlooking most of the gardens and the satellite dish that Erik had moved only days before.

"What about him?" Erik growled. He was next to Charles, clutching the railing and looking down with his eyes slits and his brows furrowed.

Charles moved towards Erik, he needed to be closer for this. "What comes to mind when you think about Shaw?"

Erik glared. "No, not about him."

"You need to express your feelings. I believe they are blocking the full extent of your powers!"

"Fine Charles, if you really want to know." He turned to face Charles, still frowning and his face full of passion. "I want to kill him, to destroy him, to cause him just as much pain as he caused me. To make him feel like the monster he turned me into. To avenge my mother's death… Do you understand yet, Charles?"

Anger, frustration, and so many things were radiating off of Erik. Every muscle in his body was tense with his balled up fists like the metal he bends; the way he looked at Charles honestly scared him. The metal hangers on the wall behind Charles were starting to melt and sway. It was, to an extent, breathtakingly beautiful.

"That's right, my friend, express yourself," whispered Charles, smiling slightly. He really could have changed that 'my friend' to 'my love', but Erik… no he couldn't feel that way.

And suddenly, just like that, Erik's eyes narrowed and he pounced at Charles, barely using any force and Charles was pinned with Erik all around him. The scent of sweat; of the gardens of the mansion; of metallic ozone-singed air filled Charles' senses, overpowering everything else and he was so very dizzy. He tried to move his watch-hand, but Erik had is firmly attached to the wall behind with his power.

Charles was a little shocked, he had on no scale of prediction anticipated this sort of reaction from Erik, this amount of energy and passion buzzing in the air. Erik was breathing heavily again, his face so close that all Charles had to do was move up the two or so inches between them. It would be so easy. He could feel the soft warmth of Erik's breath on his face, dustings of air over his features.

Snapping back to reality, Charles reminded himself why Erik really had him pinned to the wall: anger against Shaw, and why he really wanted to Erik to do this: releasing anger. Right; this was for Erik.

"Sorry," Erik said hastily, breaking away and looking down again, away from Charles.

Training ended for the day, and Charles felt the unending need to take a very cold shower.

And not think about Erik. Nope, not thinking about Erik (it wasn't like Erik was thinking of him).

5

—

'Erik' Charles projected. He was in the mood for a game of chess to relax and calm his mind in the logic and order of rules, as opposed to the confusion and chaos that was currently going on inside him.

'Charles…' came the reply, strained and growling, like the rushing, tumbling roar of a faraway waterfall. Charles swore he could hear a slight gasp coming right behind it.

A quick flicker of images. Skin, soft and pale and flushed rosy pink, shining in a thin layer of glistening sweat. Erik was masturbating. Charles immediately shut his mind to the visuals, but it was too late. His own pulse was racing, skin a little clammy, and the collar of his shirt around his neck was just a smidgen too tight. What was that? Who was that? The ping of jealousy came next, ringing through him, the inevitable truth that it wasn't him that Erik was fantasizing about, couldn't be him, and had to be someone else.

Sighing loudly and composing himself, he loosened just the top buttons of his collar, letting his overheated skin breathe. He projected out to Erik again, asking him to chess in the study now; this time a projection that didn't require an answer on Erik's part so he could just shut his mind and cut out any more embarrassing fantasies that managed to fluster Charles beyond belief.

Actually, he shut out every drifting thought from Erik's side of the mansion. Just in case. The question of whom Erik was fantasizing about was still floating around in his head. The easiest, most logical answer: not Charles, it was a girl. A very pretty girl who Erik must have thought was… arousing.

Before his mind managed to elaborate, there was a near silent tapping on the door, accompanied by a soft "you there?" in that perfect low voice. If Charles wasn't listening, he wouldn't have caught it at all.

A deep breath, calm himself, make sure he showed no signs that he knew what Erik had been doing, before he answered, "come in."

The door creaked open with a squeak, jarring and reverberating loud in the hall. In came Erik, with motion as fluid as the metal he bends. He was wearing the black turtleneck again, except it seemed wrinkled and messy, completely unlike Erik's usual look. His hair too, seemed slightly off place, little pieces falling into his eyes. His skin, as well- the high color on his cheeks spreading to his ears.

Charles had already had the game of chess set up half an hour before, the pieces all laid out as a tribute to order and decency in the present awkward chaos that suffocated the mood of the room. Charles watched Erik's eyes follow to his unbuttoned collar and the probably blush on his cheeks; Erik must know now that he knew, but still, he did nothing different from the ordinary and sat across from Charles in his usual leather chair.

Half an hour later the mood of the room was still that awkward mix of discomfort. Neither of them spoke to each other and the game progressed silently and slowly. Charles was taking more time than he typically did with his moves, he couldn't shake the urge to take a peek at Erik's mind, not to cheat, but to see if he was still thinking about her. Erik was leaning in distractingly close whenever he made a move of one of his chess pieces. Close enough that Charles could count each individual dark, captivating eyelash. Sometimes Erik would look up, eye scintillating. When he would do that, Charles managed to feel even more attracted to him, but once again, as it seemed to happen often now, he shoved those feelings away; especially since it was almost proved certain that his friend felt nowhere near the same feelings as Charles.

"Checkmate," called Erik suddenly, smirking now. Charles couldn't even point the exact moment when it happened or why or how it was possible that Erik was currently less than two inches from him, but he was. Then the temptation to take a look in Erik's mind rose again, it would be just so easy… no, no, he couldn't do that, he didn't need to do that. The logical answer was that it was all in Charles' head. The warm lighting in the room must be messing with his depth perception.

Charles realized that he was staring. "Alright, then." Breathing a sigh of relief, he sat back in his seat, leaning away from the highly distracting Erik Lehnsherr. For a second, he swore a flash of confusion crossed Erik's face.

Long after the game was done, Erik was back to his room, and Charles was sure that all of the kids were asleep, he lay back in his bed and thought of Erik.

ONE TIME HE DID

—

After a while, things started to settle into a routine at the mansion; at any given moment, one could tell exactly who was roaming through the corridors at which hour. At odd hours of the night it was always Sean, sneaking down to the kitchen for a midnight snack. Sometimes Alex would join him. The middle of the day was a constant flow of Alex, Hank, Raven, Angel, and very rarely Moira roaming the halls and doing whatever it was that children did (Charles had no idea).

Erik though, Erik would pass silently through the halls right after sunset, while the last rays shined through the windows and onto the walls. He would almost always stop for just a few seconds in front of Charles' study, just a lull in his usually fluid footsteps. But Charles could feel it, sense his presence. Under normal circumstances, Charles would resist the urge to take a peek to see why.

This time was different.

Charles was tired, exhausted from training with the kids and Erik. It was a particularly stressful, exhausting day, the mental strain almost too great, leaving him on the brink of a zombie-like state. All he wanted to do was take a very long nap. With all of his tired inhibitions down, he couldn't stop the way his mind began to flutter around the mansion. He caught glimpses of the thoughts and dreams of the people in the house, all in a giant nebula or thoughts, melting and forming and starlight-flickering.

A particular flicker caught his mind's eye, and he latched on to it. Somewhere in his tired mind he could sense where it was coming from —right outside his door, from the presence, Erik, who was paused there for just a few seconds— but he didn't want to admit it. The vision Charles saw there was interesting, to say the least. It was him; pushed against a wall; legs latched around Erik's back; kissing him. His lips were red and swollen in the vision, his hair was everywhere and he looked completely debauched. It didn't hurt that Erik had his hands in all the right places…

Somehow, witnessing that was not as shocking as it should have been. Somehow, Charles just felt a happy flutter of feeling, and acceptance, and finally. There was, of course, heat pooling in places that heat normally pooled when he thought of Erik, but then again, he was too tired to care.

In those few short seconds that had Charles breathless and warm and fuzzy as well, he had made up his mind.

A few short steps to the door.

Hopefully, Erik was still there (that wasn't just a hope- he knew that he was, but adding the word hope to his thought process made it seem better, somehow).

He was.

The look on his face was… shock? Charles couldn't tell, he didn't have time to tell because in a few short seconds their lips were mashed together and Erik was kissing back. It became hot and wet and mostly tongue and teeth so fast, with Erik's hands gripping at Charles' back and pulling him closer. He fumbled trying to get Charles' shirt untucked from his pants, but that little fumbling was made up completely by the way his hands were instantly touching Charles' skin and it was all too hot again.

Charles had his arms wrapped around Erik's neck and he was clinging so desperately, almost as desperately as the kiss itself, by the time that Erik pulled away. "I thought you would never catch on," he said.

Charles laughed. "Neither did I."


End file.
